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yan-randomfandom · 3 months ago

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Hi! Is it possible to get a platonic Yandere Stanford with a teenager reader? The reader likes mysteries and monsters and all that just like him, so Stanford sees them and he’s like ‘yup. That’s my kid now’ lol

P!Yandere!Stanford Pines & Teenager!GN!Reader

warnings: violence(toward monsters), implied abuse

[THIS IS PLATONIC] I think I made this a tad too long... it's not even in bullet form anymore. thank you for the request! I love your idea sm 😭 [Word Count: 1047]

Stanford Pines has completed another mission. He lifted his head, his eyes squinting at the sight of the looming trees. The sun peeked between them, visibly on its way down.

To keep it short, he had to chase a dangerous, vile monster into the woods and take its life.

He probably saved thousands of lives. It's just that... it came down to the price of being lost. Ford has never gone this far from Gravity Falls before.

That's totally okay. Curious, even! This is perfect material for his research! He'll have to use a makeshift one for now—this cheap notebook he got from the gift shop.

As he was about to start writing, a panicked roar reverberated throughout the forest. Such strong growls—enough to blow away his clothes and body! Ford had to see it with his own eyes!

He ran and ran until he finally saw the giant. A single, widened eye stared at him, and suddenly he couldn't move anymore. Heavy breaths rose and plunged from his chest.

But he didn't have to worry any longer. A figure hopped down, continuously slicing the middle part of the eye as they descended.

Ford grunted, falling on his back as its blood squirted and leaked, even having some splatter on his nose. He watched the monster turn and run away, knowing that it'd die soon enough.

"Woah! Grandpa, you okay?" A small hand filled Ford's vision. "You froze up pretty quickly. I bet you'd be dead if I wasn't here!"

Once his vision finally cleared, he paused at the sight of a teenager. He's never seen this kid before. Ford cleared his throat, accepting your hand and standing up. "I'm fine. And don't call me that."

You hummed, tilting his open wallet with a nod. "I dunno. Being in your sixties sounds pretty old to me."

"What? How— When— Give me that!" Ford swiped his wallet out of you, to which you respond with a silly grin. He scoffed, crossing his arms. This is such a Stanley thing to do. "Who are you even, kid? Why are you out here?"

"I'm out adventuring!" you declared, placing your fists on your hips. You do certainly have equipment fit for an adventurer. "I mean, did you see me back there? Killed that monster with one swipe!"

Ford rubbed his chin in deep thought. He smiled. "That was pretty impressive. It reminds me of my nephew. You've gone straight towards the monster's weak point."

Unbeknownst to him, your face starts heating up from the praise. You've never received positive reactions from your oh-so-dangerous hobbies. "Well, yeah! It's no big deal. Eyes are usually common for being weak."

Ford chuckled. "Anyway, do you know the direction to Gravity Falls? I may be a little lost."

"Course, duh! It's like... that way! Opposite of the sun," you grinned, pointing behind him. He turned around to check, his shoulders slumping. You touched his nose with a grin when he looked back at you. What a Mabel type of personality. You were really just removing the monster's blood, though. "Boop!"

...Okay.

One glance at the sky, and Ford knew that there's no way he's going to go home at this time. While he loved adventuring, especially at night, he's still in undiscovered territory and would very much like to go home in one piece.

"Alrightnicetomeetyoudude! Byeeee! Good luck!" you exclaimed, already waving at him and walking away.

Wait! You're his only ticket out!

"Pray tell, kid, are you alone? Don't you have guardians or friends tagging along?" he asked hastily.

"Naw. I have parents waiting for me back home, though," you smiled.

Ford somehow convinced you to bring him home to yours.

Now, you stood in front of your house with him by your side. The older man couldn't help but notice that you looked a bit anxious, weirdly enough. You're scratching your arm.

The door finally opened. The first thing Ford saw was a frustrated face of an older woman, which was swiftly wiped when she took note of his presence. How odd.

"Oh, sweetie, who's this with you?"

"Found him in the woods! Isn't he neat?"

"Let's talk for a bit. Please give us a moment," the woman smiled at Ford, grabbing you before closing the door on him.

Ford awkwardly stood outside the house, checking his watch. Faint voices reached his ears. That's your mother, yes? She sounded upset. You sounded upset. He hasn't been in this dimension in a while, but would it really be so bad to take home a man you haven't met? He's just literally lost!

You opened the door. He froze when he met your tear-filled eyes.

"Sorry, whatever-your-name-is. I can't let you in," you muttered meekly. "But you can wait for me tomorrow. I'll help you go home. Bye."

The door closed. Why were you crying? That's not right.

Next day.

Ford waited for you on your front porch, mindlessly writing in his notebook. He had to sleep on a makeshift cushion of laundry. It wasn't the worst place to sleep, and he's just glad he didn't get caught.

"Good morning! You're early today!" you beamed, already walking.

"Is there anything I should know about your parents?" he deadpanned, trailing next to you.

You got uncomfortable quickly. "Uh, next question? Hey, look, a parasite! So weird!"

"Don't touch that! I can't believe it ranges up to here!"

The journey towards Gravity Falls felt long and tiring. But it simply made you and Ford closer.

"What's your name again?"

"Ford. Just call me Ford."

"For— Holy shit! I didn't even notice earlier! You have five fingers and a thumb!"

"Please—" he hid his hand in reflex.

"Six cylinders on your hand! That's so cool, Ford!"

Ford simply sighed, a smile growing on his lips.

Eventually, you both reach the mystery shack.

"Woah... That's yours? No wonder why you're so used to being in the woods. You live in one!"

Ford chuckled, opening the front door. "I can safely say you're going to get along with my family, kid."

...

You paused, hesitating. "I can't. I have to go home."

...

He smiled sweetly. "Not even for dinner? It'll be quick."

Your stomach growled quite loudly, causing your cheeks to heat up. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."

Stepping right into the shack, Ford shuts the door behind you. He can't let you go back in that godforsaken house. You looked too miserable.

You can be happy with the Pines family here.

#yanyan drabble #platonic yandere #yandere #yandere gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines #ford pines #yandere stanford pines x reader #yandere ford pines x reader

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 2 months ago

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Guardian Angel

CW: Stalking, people breaking into your apartment (Arkham Knight and others), people brushing off an obvious issue, and violence. Be warned, there are no angels in Gotham. ~2.2k words

You have a stalker. Probably. Maybe. If you do, they're so good at covering their tracks that you're starting to believe you're just paranoid.

But it's the odd events, the trinkets moved slightly out of place, that have you checking over your shoulder.

There wasn't even any evidence at first. Your day had been completely normal. All you were doing was cooking dinner, when your nerves went on end, and goosebumps rose on your skin. The feeling of being watched, of being prey set in.

It didn't make sense, didn't have a reason, but you closed your curtains and triple checked your locks nonetheless. (The bat you keep by your bed slept next to you that night)

You would have forgotten about the incident entirely if, a week later, the same feeling crept up your spine while you walked home. You'd never walked faster to get to your building. You'd practically sprinted up the stairs to your apartment, and slammed to the door behind you.

Even within your home, it took almost the whole night for the feeling to fade.

Two times could be a coincidence, but then things started getting stranger.

You could have sworn you left your keys on the counter the night before, so why, why did you find them on the coffee table?

It makes you uneasy, almost sick, but you're already late to work. So you do the only thing you can, you brush it off.

Until it happens. A thing you can't brush off.

You knew you had used the last of the sugar yesterday. Knew it because you had made a mental note to pick some up the next time you went to the store.

But there's sugar. It's not a lot. Just enough to get you through a few days. Enough to make you think you might have just missed the last of it.

You know you're right. You know you were out of sugar and even if your coworkers laugh and tell you to get more sleep, that having an angel that refills your sugar can't be that bad, you know someone's been in your apartment.

You set traps, set cameras, get your locks changed, take note of everything. You don't get any evidence.

But you notice that your window doesn't squeak anymore when you open it. Your shower doesn't rattle when you go to start it. Your oven actually heats up to the temperature you set it to.

It's been like this for months now. And you're starting to believe that Gotham does have its own set of angels that go around trying to make your life a little easier.

That is until, you meet him.

You'd been unlucky. Gotten grabbed and dragged into the alley by your apartment by some haggard looking man waving a gun. It wasn't the first time you'd been mugged in Gotham, and you doubted it would be the last.

You had reluctantly pulled your wallet and phone out of your pockets and handed them off when an armored-clad person dropped between the gun and you.

At first, it was a relief. Being saved by Batman or Nightwing is practically a rite of passage in Gotham.

But then you watched the would-be mugger hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his arm. Then you watched your savior turn to face you, and you knew it was him.

You didn't have an explanation, you didn't have proof. You'd never even seen a glimpse of the helmet that hid his face before. But you knew. He's the one that's been following you. He's the one that's been in your home.

No amount of good deeds can overshadow how violating it feels, to know he's been watching you, observing you, doing things for you. You instinctively step back.

He only matches the distance you tried to create with a step of his own.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap, sounding braver than you feel.

He doesn't answer at first, just tilts his head like he's studying you. You think it might be because he's never seen you think close before.

"I saved you," he says instead, completely avoiding your question. You wonder if he's expecting to be treated like a hero, if he's looking for your praise. It makes your stomach churn.

"You've been following me. You're the one who's been in my apartment," You protest, eyes darting.

You half expect someone to come help you. With the way he's dressed, with how he's carrying himself, he has to be some kind of new villian you missed on the news.

He straightens out at your accusation, "Have I?"

You almost falter, almost do chalk it up to paranoia, but you just knew. Every fiber of your being knows, "Yes," You breathe out instead, "You have."

He nods slowly, then turns his back to you. A part of you wants to run, to try and escape and scream and get as far away from the man who feels like he could make you disappear without a trace.

He bends down and scoops up your phone and wallet before turning back to you. You freeze when he walks closer, each step steady and measured, then extends your belongings to you. Your hand shakes when you snatch at them.

You half expect him to yank them away, to make you beg, but he doesn't. He only keeps his grip tight on them, forcing you to be connected while you tug helpless at your things.

He watches you with his head slightly cocked before speaking again, "And if I have?"

He's easy, robotic cadence makes your blood grow cold, "Then you should stop," You retort, voice as cold as your veins.

"And if I won't," he prompts, finally releasing his hold on your things.

"I'll go to the police," You threaten, stuffing your wallet and phone back into your pockets.

"They can't help you," he warns. It makes you uneasy, that he makes no attempt to keep space between you. Even if his body language doesn't seem dangerous, everything else about him does.

"They can contact Batman," You try instead.

He laughs. It sounds humorless, empty, "He can't help you either."

You lose your nerve then, when he pats your cheek, and the guns holstered to his side seem to glint at you. "Get home," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're some kind of pet.

And then he's gone, leaving you to an alley empty of anything, save for you and the mugger crumpled to the ground. All you can do is go home. Sleep doesn't come for you that night.

He's sloppy, now that he knows you know. You can tell it's on purpose.

Flashes of glowing blue outside your window, your things carelessly shifted about your apartment, the broken fan that hasn't worked since you moved in left on and spinning when you come home from work.

The only place he hasn't seemed to touch is your bedroom. You're not sure if it's because he's showing some slightest form of respect or if he's simply too good at hiding his tracks for you to notice.

Both options make you feel anxious, and you constantly comb over your things for proof of his presence.

You rack your brain over it, lose sleep over it, but you can't come up with one idea of who he is and why he's doing this.

There's nothing on him in the news, nothing on the internet, not even a whisper on the streets.

It feels like it's all one big, sick game to him when your favorite flowers start showing up at your door, when your gas tank fills itself.

When you tell your coworkers, in a near panic, about your rent being mysteriously paid, they tell you it's harmless, it's kind of sweet, really.

Shouldn't you just be grateful that someone's doing all that for you? Shouldn't you be thankful to have an angel looking out for you in this city?

But you know it's not harmless. You know he's capable of so much more. You know he's no angel.

The sound of the mugger's arm snapping still haunts you.

But you don't know what to do. You're stuck, on edge, and slowly coming to terms with having to live like this forever.

That is, until your bad luck seems to get even worse. You were in your pajamas, already half asleep as you're lounging on your couch, when your world gets thrown into chaos.

There's a click in your apartment door's lock, and you have the terrifying realization that tonight's the one night you'd forgotten to throw the deadbolt.

"I told ya I could get the keys to this floor. And barely anybody lives in this building afta what happen ta Murphy," the heavy Gotham accent fills your apartment and three men file into your living room like they own it.

They freeze when they see you, and you don't hesitate to sprint for your fire escape.

You've just managed to throw your window open when one of them grabs you around the middle and hauls you back, throwing you to the floor. Your head knocks against the ground, and everything spins.

You think you whimper as they start bickering. "You said no one would be here!"

"They weren't supposed ta be! It's all supposed ta be empty," one of them snaps back. It only makes your head pound and your vision swim.

You try to push yourself off the floor, but a boot lands at the center of your back and forces you back to the ground, "We have to kill them."

Murmurs of reluctance fill the room, and for a second, you think you'll get to live.

"They saw our faces," You hear the telltale sound of a gun clicking off its safety, "I'll do it."

You flinch with the shot sounds, but no more pain comes. The weight comes off your back, and a body collapses to the floor next to you.

You lift your head just enough to see a familiar blur of blue charge at the remaining two men.

It's not so much of a fight as it is an execution. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but anything you can't see you can hear.

There's no mercy in his actions, all wrath and fury, and you want to laugh because, in a way, he is your guardian angel. An avenging angel, pummeling the people who threatened you into something unrecognizable.

You're sure how long it lasts, how long you hear his fists connect to their flesh. But eventually, your apartment goes quiet. The sound of fabric shuffling reaches your ears, and calloused hands carefully help you move until you're sitting up.

Warm palms press to your face you realize he's taken his gloves off. You force your eyes to open, morbidly curious if he's removed his helmet, too. You're not sure why you're disappointed he hasn't.

"Saved me again," You mumble, words almost slurring.

"You're not safe here," he says softly, and his thumb runs over your cheek like he's trying to comfort you.

"They didn't think anyone lived here," You supply, but he apparently doesn't find that very reassuring.

"Let's get you out here," he says instead, and you blame it on your head injury for being impressed at how he doesn't show any signs of struggling when he picks you up and cradles you to his chest.

"Don't have anywhere to go," you say weakly, mentally trying to do the math on how much a safe hotel would cost at this time of night.

The moonlight seems to give his helmet an odd shine as you stare hazily at him. It almost looks like a halo.

"I have a place," he tells you, already carrying you out of your apartment window.

That snaps you out of your thoughts. It makes you frown, even in your dazed state, you know you don't want to go with him. That even with the trick of the light, he's no angel.

You start to squirm, "No– no, wait–"

"You need somewhere safe to recover," he says, and he doesn't seem to notice your fidgeting. Your heart leaps to your throat, at how securely he's holding you. With anyone else, it would have felt like a promise of protection.

"I don't trust you, you're not safe," You stumble out, head growing heavy with each step he takes from your apartment.

"No one's safe. But I don't have any plans on hurting you," he murmurs, seemingly more occupied with getting you to wherever he's planning to take you.

"But you could," You exhale out, and your voice sounds weak even to yourself.

That makes him pause, and his helmet tips as if he's focusing on you, "Maybe, but I wouldn't like it."

You want to argue more, demand he set you down. But your brain feels so foggy, and you're so tired and drained that your head just kind of finds itself on his shoulder.

"You can sleep," he says, and your eyes fall shut at how soft he sounds, "I'll keep watch."

You really do want to protest, but his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. You can't help but think, as you drift off, that your angel might have fallen far lower than you can handle.

#arkham knight x reader #is this an unofficial prequel to a gilded cage? I do not know #jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you

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redsray · 9 months ago

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Wayne gala but all of the batkids were forced to go so now they are SET on giving Bruce the biggest headache ever while also entertaining themselves. read: they have a bet going on who can have the most ridiculous headline in the paper the next morning. some honourable mentions include:

Bruce Wayne's (il?)legal Ward(?) Stephanie Brown Claims to 'Always Have at Least Three of Bruce's Wallets' on Her Person. (With Interview! "Always have to be prepared, y'know? S'not like he'll notice one is missing.")

Eldest Wayne Son Richard Grayson Seen Falling Face First Into the Chocolate Fountain at Recent Charity Gala: Proceeds to Get Back Up, Laugh it Off and Return Thirty Seconds Later Unphased. (With Bonus Interview! "My hair just falls back into place perfectly, even after exposed to melted chocolate 30 seconds beforehand.")

Jason Todd-Wayne's First Public (Official!) Appearance Since He Returned: Everything You Need to Know, From Claims of An Alien Kidnapping to Punching the Newly-Hired Bartender! (With Exclusive Interview: "He looked at Cass weird. Creep. Should send him to those aliens.")

Bruce Wayne's Youngest Damian Wayne Denies Bringing Mysterious Pets to Recent Gala; Allegedly Does Not Notice the Hoard of Animals Hidden Behind Him, Including a Cow. (With New Interview: "Pets? Here? Foolish. All of my pets are safely in their wing of the manor. Do not disrespect their name.")

Timothy Drake-Wayne and His Gala Experiences: Wayne Middle Child Is Caught Falling Asleep At Multiple Tables During the Charity Gala, Claims to 'Not Know What Sleep Is' When Asked. (Bonus Interview! "Sleeping? At tables? Please, I have some class. What even is sleep? Is this a new social custom I am unaware of?")

see also: Timothy Drake-Wayne Denies Ownership of Skateboard Placed Under Bruce Wayne's Chair Despite His Name Clearly Etched On the Back.

Bruce Wayne's Newest Ward Duke Thomas Accidentally Spills Punch On His Guardian; Proceeds to Make Wayne Thank Him Because 'That Suit Was A Fashion Disaster'. (With Exclusive Interview: "That suit looked like it was picked out by Dick. That's not a good thing. It looked better with punch spilt on it.")

Eldest Daughter of Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Reported Hiding Behind Each of Her Siblings in Succession Throughout the Recent Gala; When Asked, Each Sibling Denied Seeing The Young Woman. (With Added Interview: "Fun game. Hide and seek, with paparazzi. Fun to scare.")

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pipwritesoccasionally · 3 months ago

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two little lines

toji x reader

in which you find out that you're pregnant and fear toji's reaction.

because of pregnancy this is technically an AFAB!reader, but I did my best to keep it gender neutral. though I did use the pet name "doll" (sorry it feels so toji), and I don't exactly know if it's gender neutral.

despite this technically being AFAB, if you're AMAB and want to read I am not here to yuck your yum.

wc: 1551

look at me mixing it up with a toji fic after three straight nanami fics!

pt. 2 pt. 3

______________________________________________________________

two little lines. all it took to seemingly destroy your entire life was two little lines on a pregnancy test.

sure, it had been two months since your last period, and sure, you were in a long-term relationship, so pregnancy was something that was technically plausible. however, you just couldn’t fathom how you had been so careless. i mean, having two kids was enough, but a third?

no, your husband was definitely going to leave you, and the thought of it made your heart clench.

‘fuck,’ you thought, vision blurring. ‘everything is just going to end because of two stupid fucking pink lines?’

you’re lucky toji was off on some other random bounty hunt, giving you time to hide the test before going to pick megumi and tsumiki up from school. the floorboards creak as you run to the kitchen, throwing the test in the box with your favorite snacks, knowing toji would never look inside it.

silence fills the house, creating a sharp juxtaposition with the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. there has to be some way to calm down before going to get your stepkids. you tried everything you could think of, from splashing cold water on your face to walking around to holding an ice cube in your hand, until eventually you got to a point where you felt like you could pretend.

keys, wallet and stress in hand, you got in the car and headed to their elementary school. the kids were there, standing on the curb, and you waved as you approached. there seemed to be an argument before tsumiki opened the passenger-side door, megumi grumbling as he slid into the backseat.

“how was school?” you asked, and the kids scrambled to talk about what they learned, from the different types of clouds to their times-tables.

“it was super fun and the teacher said that we have a new project coming up about the types of clouds! we get to make diaramas of them and it sounds really fun!” tsumiki exclaims, the smile evident in her voice.

“that does sound fun! you’ll have to tell your dad all about it when he gets home,” you feel your brows furrow at the mention of toji, but you quickly resume your role of the happy guardian so as not to cause any problems.

the house comes into view minutes later, and megumi runs inside. you turn to get out before tsumiki sighs softly.

“wait,” she says, and you turn to her. “is something wrong?”

‘curse her for being so observant,’ you think, but you shake your head quickly.

“nothing for you to worry about, just worried about your father, as always,” which technically is not a lie, just not fully the truth.

“oh, well you know that he’ll be okay! he’ll be back and then he’ll stomp around the house talking about those ‘damn sorcerers’-” tsumiki deepens her voice to imitate her father, but you stop her.

“hey! watch your language!” she opens the door and runs inside, laughing the whole way, and you smile softly. you really do love those kids, even if they aren’t yours by blood.

the house is cold when you enter, and you make your way towards the thermostat. however, before you can even turn the temperature up, a sour taste climbs up your throat. you feel sweat drench your brow, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re going to throw up.

you run up the stairs, throwing yourself in front of the toilet to empty your stomach. footsteps pad up the stairs, and you feel a little hand rubbing against your back.

“(y/n)? are you sure you’re okay?” tsumiki’s soft voice brought tears to your eyes, more running down your cheeks as you retched. it took a minute or two to get everything out of your system before you sit back on your heels.

“sorry, i guess i’m a little sick. we should have some microwavable meals in the fridge, do you think you could make some food for you and megumi?” she nods, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

‘he’s going to find out soon,’ you worry, brushing your teeth to rid the awful taste from your mouth. ‘i guess i should get some rest so i don’t have to face him when he comes home.’

you sink into your shared bed, blankets reaching out to hug your body, and you drift off to sleep.

the bed sinks, pulling you out of your slumber. you begin to turn to face your husband before you’re reminded of the events from earlier. your pulse is rapid, and you think about pretending that you’re still asleep before toji speaks.

“hey doll. ‘miki said that you weren’t feeling well earlier. you’re not hurt, are you? i can handle whoever it is for you.” you smile at the softness he only displays for you, but how can you explain that the person causing you stress is none other than him?

“i’m okay. it’s probably food poisoning or something. you did cook dinner last night,” he frowns, groaning lowly.

“i’m not that bad. the brats said it was fine enough,” you laugh at him, burrowing into the blankets. your husband slides his shirt over his head, revealing his broad shoulders riddled with muscles and scars. mindlessly, you reach out to caress him softly, and he slides into bed beside you. while normally you’d ask to lay on his chest, you’re worried being that close would make him aware of your irregular pulse.

“goodnight babe,” you say, curling back into yourself and closing your eyes, knowing that if you look at him now his confusion would cause the truth to tumble out.

“night doll,” he hesitates, weight settling in on the other side of the bed.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you wake up to a quiet house, something that sets you off immediately. two elementary school aged kids does not bode well for a quiet house, and so you sit up, reaching to your right to find toji’s side of the bed cold to the touch.

‘okay, something’s up.’

you walk down the stairs to the kitchen, calling out for the kids, only to see that their shoes aren’t by the door. toji’s in the kitchen, looking through the fridge.

“hey babe, where are the kids?” you normally get them off to school, but it seems that maybe you’d slept in late.

“they’re at school,” he says shortly, taking you aback.

“okay. sorry i slept in, i must have been really tire-” you stop when you step into the kitchen, seeing your positive pregnancy test on the counter. the whole world freezes, and you can feel everything crashing down.

“oh that? yeah, it was weird. i tried to bring your favorite snack to you in bed when the box was making a weird sound. found that at the bottom.” he gestures haphazardly, cracking the dam holding the next wave of your anxiety back.

“it’s a friend’s-”

“don’t bullshit me. were you even going to tell me?” his voice is low, eyes piercing.

“toji-”

“were. you. going. to. tell me.” he enunciates.

“i didn’t know how! i mean seriously, you have two kids to worry about, the last thing you need is a fucking baby! i get it, it’s over. i’ll go get my shit,” tears are running down your cheeks as you tear out your heart with your bare hands. you turn to leave, making your way upstairs, when a hand grabs your wrist softly.

“wait–doll. fuck.” he turns you to face him. “you don’t have to leave.”

“of course i fucking do. should probably go now before the kids get back. i don’t want them involved.” you take another step, but his grip remains firm.

“i said you don’t have to leave. the brat’s mine too.”

“wait. you want to keep it?” he looks to the side, rubbing his other hand against his neck.

“of course i fucking do,” he mirrors, and your eyes widen.

“you mean…you’re not mad?”

“i’m mad you didn’t tell me, not about the brat.” your eyes water, and before you know it you’re sobbing into his chest.

“what is this all about? you really have such a low opinion of me to think i’d kick you out?” his voice rumbles through his chest against your ear.

“you’re just so busy, and i thought…i thought that you would be mad,” you sob even harder, not knowing where the emotions end and hormones begin.

“so what? i’d just kick you to the curb?”

“i mean, you have two kids already…maybe a third would be too much.” he starts to chuckle, causing you to pull away from him.

“what’s so funny?”

“that you seriously thought i’d kick you out. i don’t break promises, doll, and marriage is just a big promise. besides, you’d probably get custody of the brats. they like you more than me.”

you run your hands over your face before reaching out to play with his hair.

“you’re really not mad?” you repeat, and he rolls his eyes.

“no dumbass. besides, i can’t let any other men see how hot you are carrying my kid.” you snort, circling your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“love you, toji.”

“love you too, doll.” he says, your lips meeting.

#jjk #toji x reader #toji jjk #toji fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji fluff #angst to fluff?#manga #anime #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji fushiguro

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psychotic-nonsense · 4 months ago

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In October of 1967, Steve Harrington is born in Hawkins, Indiana.

He's raised there, forced to live under the strict expectations of his parents, Richard and Samantha. Barely escapes their clutches, freedom fueled by the kids and adults that take the role of guardian and family when the time is right. Keeps himself in check with the always impending apocalypses that arise beneath his feet.

In June of 1985 - when Steve Harrington is 18, while Richard and Samantha Harrington are visiting New York for an extended work trip - Veronica Harrington is born.

She was carried and raised in secret from their hometown. They take care of her between their business hours, dropping her in the hands of nannies and babysitters galore. They don't even think of Indiana during Veronica's early childhood, too focused on work and making sure their daughter starts up right.

In October of 1986 - when Steve Harrington is 19, aged further by ending the Vecna War, yet tamed by his newfound love in Eddie Munson - Richard and Samantha Harrington return to Hawkins.

They don't ask about what happened to their son. They don't ask about the town. They don't ask questions, just give responses to them. Sneering at Steve's friends, complaining about the state of the house, commenting at the disfunctional chaos their home has become.

In November of 1986, Richard and Samantha Harrington disown Steve.

They just let him go. They at least give him a folder of his legal documents, but otherwise just tell him to get out of their house and never use their name again. Claiming Steve doesn't need anything from the room because the Harrington's own everything in it. They don't call him son, they don't say goodbye, they don't acknowledge who's actually taken care of the house, they don't admit most of Steve's former room has changed with money Steve earned himself, they don't dare to give him any money or care where he goes. They just say they're sick of dealing with an unworthy mistake of a child, and force him out of their house.

In November of 1986, the Party's adults adopt Steve.

He runs to them first after everything happens. Held himself together at the start, but broke down the second the words were out. While everyone was trying to comfort Steve, Wayne Munson and Jim Hopper were the first to succeed. They know firsthand that this family would never be the same as blood, no matter how much that blood has boiled and burned before, but the love will be stronger and it will be here. When everyone seconds it, Steve finally accepts it. He becomes a child of the Party - he's everyone's son and everyone's brother, taking whatever surname he sees fit.

In November of 1986, Steve Henderson and Eddie Munson leave Hawkins.

Despite all this good, Steve can't bear to stay in this damned town a second longer, where everyone knows who he is and will soon know everything he isn't. And it's not like Eddie was looking forward to sticking around Hawkins either, especially without his Steve. The kids are the first to agree, surprisingly, and the adults promise to find a way for the boys to get out. Later that week, when Richard and Samantha leave the house to prepare for Veronica, Steve and Eddie break in to take everything that's rightfully theirs. While they're there, not sure what prompts him, Steve makes a bag of his clothes with shoes and his wallet tucked within it, shoving it into his closet. Dustin's mom uses an old favor to get the boys an apartment in Chicago, the Party has one last farewell, and the two boys are gone.

From 1986 onward, Veronica Harrington is raised in Hawkins, Indiana.

Richard and Samantha are adamant in their daughter coming out exactly how she should. They steadily convince the town to forget the Harringtons ever had a son and lock the room on the second floor next to the stairs without ever touching the inside. They raise her with formality and pride at the top of their expectations, wanting at least one child to come out right.

But Veronica is the spitting image of Steve's honesty and care. She puts on a facade when needed, but even at a young age, she wants nothing more than to be someone's light in the darkness. She plays with every lonely kid at school, and tries to make people laugh at the business parties she's dragged to. It's not received well by her parents, but Veronica is much too strong willed and stubborn to let it phase her.

In April of 1991 - when she's 6 and they're so much stronger around their hearts - Veronica Harrington meets Steve and Eddie Munson for the first time.

It's the year Erica is set to graduate high school. Steve and Eddie have been making the drive for every holiday this year, ordered determined to give her the best senior year she could have. It's Easter Sunday, and Wayne somehow managed to drag his boys away to church - a Munson custom, as even Eddie insisted they go.

While at the snack table post sermon, a little girl comes up to Steve, mistaking him for her father. He and Eddie gently comfort the girl, introducing themselves and offering to help the girl find her parents. That's when Veronica introduces herself, striking Steve deep in his heart. Still, he keeps quiet, even gifting her a little origami crane made from napkins at the table. He calls her "chickpea" for the color of her dress, tells her to keep the crane secret and safe, "If ever you need to find your way back home, you hold that close, and it'll tell you."

Meanwhile, Wayne has come across Richard and Samantha in the crowd opposite the kids. Exchanging formalities, Wayne mentions his son and nephew are in town, news the Harrington's are surprised at, as Wayne didn't seem like the father type. However, trying to keep face, they remain civil and insist on introducing their daughter.

Cue Veronica running to her parents with Steve and Eddie in tow. Cue Steve calling Wayne dad right to Richard's face. Cue the Harrington's immediate leave from the church, Veronica waving behind her with a crane placed carefully in her pocket.

From then on, Veronica Harrington's life changes indefinitely.

Her parents' expectations grow tenfold. She finds out she's horribly allergic to chickpeas. All of her friends must be approved by her parents, and any that don't fit their image are ordered to leave her.

Veronica takes these changes in stride - is her class's top student, captain of the softball and volleyball teams in junior high, keeps the friends she wants in secret from her parents - but she can't help but keep the crane in a little box in her room. Gets a necklace with a little origami crane pendant, holds it whenever she needs to make a hard choice. Can't help but expand herself in secret, learn things her parents would never approve of - lock picking, other languages, sleight of hand, a clothing style that's nothing like the dark blues of her family, all warmth and light. She explores every room in her house, yet is unable to find her way into that room upstairs next to the steps.

In May of 1998, Veronica Harrington discovers the truth about her brother.

She's about to be a freshman. Her class was touring the high school in preparation, and while passing the athletics hall, her eyes hit the swimming trophies. Each row stuffed with trophies, and each one with a name that stabbed her right in the stomach: Steve Harrington.

After that, she couldn't bear all the secrecy anymore. Late that same night, she finally uses her lock picking skills to break into that room. And though it's devoid of life, it is a bedroom, so evidently lived in. It's frozen in time, twisted sheets covered in dust, old papers crinkled from being stepped on but not picked up, old clean clothes still sitting in the hamper. It's a boy's room, clearly, and Veronica is careful walking around this place of memories.

She does still explore, quietly clicking on lights around the room, too cautious to touch the overhead lights. She looks under the bed, finding a bat and a trash can lid, both embedded with rusty nails. A shirt that still smells like fresh laundry yet has a back stained permanently with long red lines down the shoulders. Dozens of stapled documents labeled NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT, detailing horrific events that each have that same name signed at the bottom.

With shaking hands she checks the closet, and finds it mostly empty. All except for a deep green graduation robe and cap, a cream Hawkins High letterman, and a duffel bag hidden in the back corner. The cap has a 1985 tassel, and the letterman has Harrington branded on the back with basketball and swimming patches galore. And the bag, when she checks it, looks like a survivalist pack someone would make in an apocalypse. At the top sits a wallet, and inside is an ID for a Steve Harrington, who has the same face as the one in her origami memories.

And Veronica is done. She wakes up the next morning and throws Steve's jacket on the kitchen table, startling both her parents mid sip of coffee. She finds herself in a screaming match with her father, demanding them to quit lying to her, begging to know who her brother is.

In a fit of rage, Richard tells her. Tells her everything Richard and Samantha never saw in Steve, about Veronica's secret birth, the disownment, Steve's disappearance from the Harrington house and Hawkins. She's reminded of that one Easter Sunday, and is told how Richard and Samantha faked Veronica's allergy to keep her mind from being tainted by whatever curse befell their bloodline before. Orders her to never say that name again.

In a fit of rage, Veronica bites back. Calls her parents cruel and overly expectant. Comes clean about her secret freedom. Says she'd rather be nothing than ever carry the burden of the Harrington name ever again.

She hides away in her room after the fight. Cries in her closet with her origami box cradled tightly to her chest, begging it to take her home because this place isn't anymore, maybe never was. Cries for the brother she never even got to meet, who went through so many horrible things yet still got put through this same punishment. Cries for the future she won't get to have, losing her hope for a new beginning that will now never be.

At the start of June, 1998, Veronica runs away.

She makes it through the rest of May in near silence. She writes notes for all of her friends at the end of the school year, and one for her parents to inevitably find. Finds 75 dollars in Steve's old wallet, stuffs the duffel bag the rest of the way with her belongings, and says goodbye to Hawkins.

She takes the first bus she can find out of town. Doesn't care that it's going to Chicago, doesn't really care where she's going now. She befriends an old homeless man riding the bus as well, becomes another interesting name in his "Book of Wanders (Pronounced as Wonders)." As Veronica's telling the story about unknowingly meeting her brother, she remembers the crane in her bag. She reaches in to retrieve the little box, then the crane, nearly crying seeing how disheveled and unfolded it is. Broken and doomed, just like her. But looking at it now after so long, she thinks she sees something written inside it. Despite it shattering her heart pieces, she carefully unfolds the little crane.

At its center, in old, bleeding blue text, reads, "Find the Swooping Bat if you've lost your way."

The old man laughs then, taking Veronica's hand and placing it onto her chest, over her heart. "It's fate," he whispers in the dark bus. "There's a place called that in Chicago."

Veronica uses her money to rent them both a hotel for the night, giving the old man a warm bath for the first time in weeks. She gifts him the clothes as well, saying it's, "an honorary thanks from my brother, for helping me get here." They bid each other farewell in the morning, the old man telling her to keep hold of fate.

She finds her way to the Swooping Bat easily, hand on her necklace guiding her way. It's a quaint little diner, popular enough to be comfortably warm when she walks in. A young lady in a wheelchair - Max, says her nametag, with pins saying things like, "Summer work blows" and "USC grad or bust!" resting on her collar - guides her to a booth next to the sunrise.

"Anything I can get you today?" Max asks when Veronica's seated.

Veronica's fully ready to order everything on the menu, what with how delicious this place smells, but then she remembers her funds. 5 bucks, if she's lucky. "Just a chocolate milk, for now. Biggest one you have, please." She somehow plays off Max's skeptical look, her eyes sweeping over Veronica's no doubt disheveled and no-food-in-36-hours appearance.

It somehow works out, and Max is wheeling away. Veronica allows herself a moment to collapse, stomach growling in pain and eyes burning with the realization she has no idea what she's going to do now. She just has this last bit of hope to hold onto, and without it, she'll be nothing but a husk.

She's not sure how long she sits there, staring at the sunrise and letting sound and AC whisk her mind away, but there's suddenly a little knock on her table. Her head snaps up, and there's Max again, setting down a giant glass of chocolate milk... alongside a loaded breakfast plate.

"It's on the house," Max rushes to explain, all fondness when Veronica scrambles to get her wallet. "Courtesy of the owner. And between you and me," she whispers with a wink, "just take the damn food, kid."

Veronica stumbles over herself for a moment, rendered near speechless, before she finally comes back. She begs Max to thank the owner profusely, before rushing to dig into the pancakes before her. She's halfway done dousing the stack in syrup by the time Max wheels away, when there's suddenly someone laughing.

"Of course," says a choked-up voice behind her. "Can't have any chickpeas starving in my booths."

Veronica nearly drops her fork. She turns so sharply she gets dizzy. Seven years can't change a person that much, surely, because though he's bigger in the torso and he has glasses on the bridge of his nose and his hair is cut so close, he still has the same softness in his voice and the same slouch in his stance and the same moles around his eyes and his smile is so bright despite the tears in his eyes, and though Veronica can barely see through tears herself, it's not like she needs them anyway to know it's-

"Steve!" she cries, scrambling out of the booth to meet her brother halfway. The relief of it all working out has the rest of her restraint collapsing, forcing harsh sobs out of her and into Steve's shoulder. The siblings hold each other in the middle of a restaurant, a voice in the background asking everyone to leave them be. Steve doesn't stop whispering, even as his chest heaves with broken gasps between tears, "You're save, Veronica, I got you, I got you, it's gonna be okay, you're safe here, it's okay, sis, it's okay..."

"That you, lil' chickpea?" whispers a different voice once they've calmed down. Veronica reluctantly pulls away and finds a man kneeling beside them, a hand on Steve's shoulder and similar tears in his eyes. His hair and tattoos remind her of the tamed wild from seven years ago, covered in black in the middle of church yet glowing brighter than the stained glass, the one that Steve looks at in past and present with a glowing love Veronica never saw between her parents.

"Yeah," she whispers, wiping her tears away before placing a hand atop her necklace. It catches Eddie and Steve's eyes and make them beam with pride and relief. "Yeah, it's... it's me...."

#the harrington parents: birthing awesome children yet doing dick all to raise them since 1967 #wanna write this out into a full fic but i'd probably just be expanding these exact scenes and shoving a load of dialogue into them #anyway my shower thoughts went a little too hard the other day #who do yall think the old man is btw? i was gonna make him tommy h at first but i wanna know your thoughts #also yes context - steve and eddie's diner was just about to open around the time they first met veronica #stranger things au #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #original female character #technically i guess ????

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upsettingandunfortunateclasshate · 6 months ago

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The guardian's headlines invariably look like this:

Trump

Climate impact on US

NFL

Black kid killed by police shock and horror, same thing happens in the UK huh what

Trump

Bear attack in a US state

NFL

Trump

Extensive stats & facts on poverty in random US state, same thing in the UK huh what

Trump

NFL

Taylor Swift product placement

Trump

Climate impact on US

NFL

Trump

WATCH NFL FOR FUCKS SAKE

And on & on...

The guardian are just writing stories for affluent Americans now. Stories about them, for them, that indulge their interests and fears are currently dominating the top stories and most read.

Everything goes to where the money is

#the guardian survive on the trump outrage industry #they're emptying liberals wallets daily on outrage about him

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baby-alien11 · 1 year ago

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being the good girl dating Ethan Morales

Since the beggining of high school, well even before that, you were known as the girl who never got in trouble, got good grades and never went to parties, you were always invited, but never attended due to being occupied with school

You use to hang out with Devi, Eleanor and Fabiola because they were nice and study hang outs were always fun

Because of your personality and calmed aura, everyone expected you to date someone similar to you

So, when at the beggining of senior year you and Ethan Morales entered the school holding hands, everyone lost their minds, even the teachers

Theories started to fload almost inmediatly, some said that he lost a bet, others that it was a joke, some that you entered your rebel phase

But in reality, everything was real

Things started during summer when the both of you encounter at a night at a 7/11 where you went to get some snacks for the week, Ethan was there but getting some beers with his fake id

Unfortunately that night, you somehow forgot to take your wallet with you, and in a weird turn of events Ethan who was behind you in the line, pay for your snacks

"So, what's the princess doing this late out of her castle?", Ethan asked before you could leave, "What happened to the guardian dragons?"

"They are out of town", you responded knowing that he was refering to your parents, "And don't call my parents that"

"That doesn't respond my first question"

"I run out of my secret snacks and didn't want to wait until tomorrow"

"In that case, let me see what I just pay"

Without asking for permition, Ethan just started to dig into the bag until he pulled out a package of Sour Patch Kids

"Those are my favourites", you shrugged

"Mines too", Ethan smiled

In response, you also smiled feeling comfortable with him

That was the beggining of a friendship that evolute to a relationship

Even if the school found the relationship weird, you and Ethan were happy with each other

Thanks to you, he started to get better notes at school

And your spanish got better thanks to him

Heaven by Julia Michaels was your official relationship song

If someone ever think of messing with you, the next day or even sooner, the person will have something damaged

While you liked to wear some of his clothes like sweatshirts, frannels or shirts, he liked to wear your scrunchies and hair ties, your accesories like necklaces, bracelets and even some of your earings

Surprisingly, your parents loved him

At first they weren't so sure about the whole thing because of his bad boy look, but after seeing how happy both of you were, they started to accept it

Even if your parents kinda like him, both of you liked when they weren't in town because that meant Ethan spent all of that time in your house

Sex with him was amazing, and got better every single time

When your birthday arrived, he gifted you a Sour Patch plushie that somehow found online

You found that so sweet because it represented the first interaction between you two

He was the kind of guy that would do anything for you, even if it includes let you do a skin care routine on him or watch your favorite show or movie, doesn't matter how corny it is

#baby alien creations #ethan morales #never have i ever #netflix #ethan morales x reader #ethan morales x fem reader #ethan morales x you #ethan morales fanfic #michael cimino #good girl bad boy #nhie

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starseungs · 4 months ago

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# 001 | thinking about born from a rich family kim seungmin who goes to a big reputation private univeristy. he owns a sleek black car and spoils you any chance he gets. studies business management as his major but has half a mind to take law after his undergraduate.

his friends do band work on the side and wants him to join since he's a good singer but he says he's too busy to be a frontman even though deep inside he does want to try. instead he sings for you whenever you want to hear him and secretly feeds off your attention and praise. if anything, to him that's already your payment for all the times he spends money on you cause he would never let you take out your wallet when you're with him.

he takes you on the most spontaneous dates whenever you're free and even talks to your parents/guardians himself to ask for permission. a complete gentleman, will take you home on time if you have a curfew and will not leave the area until he physically sees that you've gone inside your house doors. very considerate of you, seeing that he keeps all sorts of essentials for you in his car and even carries around some of them in the case you need it.

very prone to seeing the most random thing and immediately thinking of you. all he does is think of you, almost everything he does has you in the back of his mind as a reason. you are literally his driving force and does not hesitate to tell you how much you mean to him. he just cant help how much love overflows out of him when it concerns you.

is very in this for the long run. he does not play about marrying you in the future because he's dead set on creating your own little family. it's all he thinks about on nights where you're sleeping so comfortably by his side to which he cant help but press a kiss to your forehead and thank whatever deity there is that you managed to come into his life.

[ unedited. ]

NOTE — this is so random but its @starlostseungmin 's fault. tbh idk what these kinds of posts are called ... blurbs? i dont think this is a drabble 😭👍

( MASTERTAG ) @fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng

#starseungs — library.#seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin headcanons #seungmin headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids headcanons #seungmin imagines #kim seungmin imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines

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lieslab · 3 months ago

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And I'll never go home again

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: After an awful incident with your parent(s), you find yourself seeking safety within the guys.

Genre: Comfort/hurt with angst

Word Count: 4.6K

Trigger warning: Panic attack, mentions of insults from parents, brief mentions of assault, insecurities, self-hatred, depression, and anxiety.

A/N: This one is kinda sad. It was requested, but it's slightly changed to be more relatable to a general audience. Feel free to imagine another parent or legal guardian where I specifically have father and mother written. I tried to make some neutral, so more people could relate. If you have awful parents, I'm so sorry. I hope you'll be able to find some comfort in this one <3

_ _ _

Chan:

He drove as fast as he could according to the speed limit. There was nothing more terrifying than hearing your broken sobs on the other end of the phone call. Your heart was taut with hurt and there was nowhere else to go. Nobody else to turn to. You didn’t trust anyone as much as you trusted Chan.

Every word your mother threw at you was another dagger in your heart. They cut deep and they stuck harshly in your bleeding heart. In the beginning, you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t get the words out.

Your fingers shook as you dialed Chan’s number. You knew he was working late, but he always picked up for you. All you could do was suck in a deep breath and hope for the best.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a decent relationship with your mother. When was the last time you felt like her child and not some burden? Maybe your womb was rotten from the very beginning. The years flickered by, but your relationship had never been too solid.

The insults she threw, the hatred she harbored, it was enough to destroy you every single day. Tonight was no different, but your week was rough. You reached your breaking point too easily.

You tried to keep it all in, the self-hatred, the insecurities, the fear of abandonment, but it was too much to handle alone. That’s why in the middle of her screams, you called Chan. When he first picked up, all he could hear was your heavy and uneven breathing.

The screams were faint in the background. He had no idea what they were saying, but he knew you lived with your mom. When he called your name with that soft sweet tone, you lost it entirely. Turning into a whimpering wreck of snot and self-pity. You wanted the warmth of a mother, not the monster she had turned into.

“Chan,” you weakly whispered, “I-I can’t. I-”

“What’s going on?”

“M-My mom, she’s-” You were cut off by the insults again. Every negative word she could think of to describe you, she flung it your way. The thick wooden door was no match for the hatred oozing from your mother.

“I’m coming to get you, okay? I’m coming. Just hang on and don’t hang up the phone. I’ll be right there, just hang on. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

The lump in your throat made it nearly impossible, but you managed through the sudden congestion. You focused on the shuffling of his shoes on the floor. The sound of his keys jingling. The murmured curses as he hurried to get to you.

“Just keep breathing for me, yeah? I’m coming to get you and I’ll keep you safe. Don’t hang up on me, alright? You’ve got this, I’m right here. Listen to my voice, you’re not alone.”

The entire car ride to you, he reassured you that he was coming closer and closer. By the time he pulled up to the side of your house, your mother had left. She was gone, but the aching wounds left behind still lingered. She tore open your heart without a care in the world. Digging her nails into it, she squeezed the juice from it, your soul; all that was left was an empty sack of deflated goo.

Not wanting to face her wrath again, you opted to sneak out the window. You grabbed your phone, keys, wallet, and stuck one leg over the ledge. You wasted no time sneaking out and shutting the window. Once freed, you rushed towards Chan’s car.

He climbed out and his heart dropped. You were devastated in the moonlight. Puffy irritated eyes, wet cheeks, and a quivering bottom lip. He didn’t utter a word as he opened his arms out to you.

You flew into them and wrapped your arms around him tightly. The warmth of his hand traced your back up and down. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. I’ve got you and I’m never letting go.”

_ _ _

Minho:

He couldn’t hear you over the loud bangs. He thought he was imagining it in the beginning. He pressed a finger to his ear and his eyebrows furrowed.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

“What the hell is going on?” He asked with confusion. “What is that sou-”

“Get your ass out here right fucking now!”

His eyes widened in shock at the sound of a deep voice. “Where are you? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Minho, he’s taking off my door. He’s trying to knock it down. I-I’m so scared. He won’t,” fear filled you as there was another loud knock, “stop.”

“Who?”

“My father.”

The rage inside Minho flickered to life and was blinding. He knew what your father was like. You told him all the time and this time was no different. The anger went from orange to fiery red to an electric blue. There were no words to use to describe it other than a pure volcanic molten. It oozed up his arms, crept towards his heart, and followed the pumping blood to his brain.

“I’m coming right now. Does your father keep the door unlocked this late?”

“I don’t know. Why does that matter?” Your fingers curled around the phone until they were pale. You were quite literally shaking like a leaf. Every new bang, you assumed you’d be done for. The wood and brass lock wouldn’t keep him out forever.

“I’m coming to pay that bastard a visit, so if you hear me screaming, don’t be alarmed.”

“Minho, I don’t think yo-”

“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re in danger and if anything, this is self-defense.” He shoved open the door to the cafe he was in and started to rush in the direction of your apartment. “How’s your door holding up?”

“It keeps shifting beneath the force of his pounds. I’m really scared and I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Does your closet have a lock on it?”

“No, it’s just a sliding wooden door.”

“Hide in your closet and buy yourself some time.”

You shifted from your spot on your bed. It creaked and it sent your father into another burst of anger. A loud crack filled the air as a section of the door splintered.

“Minho!” You cried out in fear. You rushed into your closet and shifted the door shut.

“I’m coming up the stairs now. I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Be careful.”

“Maybe your father should be more careful.”

He knew the layout of your house pretty well. He wasted no time heading up the cement steps with his phone in one hand and a fist in the other. He jerked open the door grumbling and went into the direction of the kitchen.

Loud bangs rattled the walls and vibrated along the floor. His teeth gritted knowing that you were struggling and terrified behind your bedroom door. He ducked down to a cupboard, grabbed a skillet, and stood back up.

“I’ll be right there, give me a moment.”

You stayed quiet as the door began to splinter more. Your father’s screams were reaching your ears easily. The safety that your room once provided had been broken.

“Hey, fuckwad!” Minho called out angrily. When your father spun around with a bulging forehead vein, a red face, and wild eyes, he swung.

The sound of the thump caused him to crumple to the floor. When he tried to get up, Minho whacked him again in the back of the head. “That’s for being a dickhead, you dickhead.” He called out your name and pulled the phone back up to his mouth. “You can come out now, he’s out cold.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, now let’s go to that new cat cafe.”

_ _ _

Changbin:

“Do you know what time it is?” Changbin muttered with a sleepy-laced voice. In his bedroom, he was barely coherent with what was happening. It had been a long day and he was exhausted.

The moment he heard his phone ring, it knocked him right out of his blissful sleep. On the other end of the line, you stayed quiet for a moment. Your lips pinched together and you shut your eyes as his sleepy voice continued to speak and call your name.

“Are you even there? If this is a prank call at this hour, it’s so not funny. I have work in the morning and I-”

“Do you ever sometimes think you were a mistake?” Your voice was hoarse as you spoke.

“Huh?”

“A mistake,” you repeated yourself. “Do you ever find yourself wondering why you were born or what your life purpose is?”

He blinked a few times, waking up a little more, and yawned. “Why are you asking me this at two in the morning? What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“My mom and I got into a huge fight earlier. She said she was tired of me and she called me worthless. It wasn’t enough though, so she began to tell me that I was a mistake.”

“You’re not a mistake.”

“I feel like a mistake,” your voice started to become hoarse. “I feel like every negative thing that anyone has ever said about me is true. I don’t understand why you choose to have me in your life and I-”

“I choose to have you around because I care about you. You’re sweet, kind, and compassionate. You make me laugh when I’m feeling down and I know that you’ll do anything for me just as I’ll do anything for you.”

A lump formed in your throat and you swallowed a few times. “Do you really mean it or are you just saying that out of pity?”

“I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Do you remember that time when I was feeling sad, so you treated me to dinner? How about that time when I couldn’t get that one song right. You pulled me away and sucked away the cycle of static that I was going through. When I came back, I finished the song without a problem.”

“Why are parents so mean sometimes?” You weakly uttered.

“Parenting is hard and sometimes parents don’t understand what they’re saying. Some will say whatever it takes to hurt you because they want you to feel as shitty as they do. It’s not for everyone, but you deserve a good mother.”

“You’re one of the best people I know,” he continued. “I wouldn’t be who I am today without your help. You’ve helped me grow and change in ways that you wouldn’t understand. You’ve helped ignite my passions and kept me alive. Your mom has no idea what she’s talking about. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Close your eyes and let me talk. I’m gonna tell you a bedtime story, so you can have some good dreams. Don’t let your mother’s words get into your head. You’re so strong and I’m proud of you. You’ll never be worthless as long as you stay true to yourself.

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

Another long day had been spent in the recording booth at the JYP building. On a mission to unwind before nightfall, Hyunjin had his headphones in his ears and listened to the new playlist he created last week.

The sun was setting and slathered the sky in blush pinks, soft blues, and ethereal hues of purple. It was one of his favorite parts of the day. To calm down and take it all in, to suck in this small sweetness; if nothing else was going right, at least, he had this. The sky, the scent of cherry blossoms, the curling leaves, the chill from snowflakes. The little things that added up and made life worth it.

He was taking a second lap around town when his phone began to buzz and the soft melody was cut off. He jerked his phone out of his pocket and upon seeing your contact name, he swiped and spoke. “Well, hello there.”

“Hyunjin?” You barely got his name out before your voice wobbled. Small thumps and shifting could be heard behind you.

“What’s up?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“I’m just out and about. I’m walking around town and enjoying the sunset.” His foot went out and he kicked a stray pebble. It rolled down the sidewalk and came to a stop near a business. He reached out a foot and kicked it again.

“Oh.”

“Oh? That doesn’t sound too good. What’s up and what’s wrong?”

“It’s been a really long day,” you uttered. “Besides that, I’m packing.”

“Are you going on vacation?”

“My dad is kicking me out.”

“What?”

“You heard me. My dad is kicking me out. I’ve been too fed up with him and his attitude. He’s had too much of me. Tonight we bucked heads and he snapped. He told me to get my shit and get out, so I’m packing.”

He stopped in his tracks and clenched pale fingers around the phone tighter, “but you have nowhere else.”

“I was going to call and ask if you could drop me off at a motel. I have some money and I-”

“Stay with me.”

“You know I can’t burden you like that. You live with Cha-”

“He doesn’t care and neither do I. Come live with me. Come live with me until you find your own place. You know how much you mean to me. My problems are yours and yours are mine.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” You shut your eyes on the other end of the phone. A huge weight lifted off your shoulders. You should have known he would have offered, but you still felt like a burden.

“Only about a few thousand times. Live with me and I’d like to get that number up to the millions. You know I love people who love me.”

The teasing in his tone caused a smile to pull at the corners of your mouth. Warm tears slipped beneath your eyelids and coated your cheeks. You wiped them away with a sleeve and sniffle. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“No worries, I’m coming, just hang tight.”

_ _ _

Han:

“Hello, hello, hello. Guess who!”

“I have your number saved, idiot,” you mumbled.

“And here I thought you’d be excited to talk to me.”

“I can’t talk for long.”

“Why?”

“I’m on a plane.”

The red grape dropped from Han’s hand, bounced along the table, and rolled onto the floor across the way. His jaw dropped and he glanced at the clock. It was almost ten in the evening, way too late for a normal flight to take place. You were always a morning person and hated staying up late.

“What do you mean? Why are you on a plane? For what? Why? What’s going on? You’ve never mentioned a trip.”

You shifted and slumped down in your seat. The spot next to you was empty and you were grateful for it. “It was an impulsive decision. I just needed to get out of my house and clear my head. I booked a flight across the country and I don’t know. I just needed time to think, I guess.”

“Is this about your parents?”

“What do you think?” You mumbled. “I’m really at my breaking point and I don’t know what to do. I just needed to be somewhere that wasn’t so suffocating. No screaming, no verbal abuse, no walking on eggshells. I need the beach, the scent of salt, and the waves lapping at my feet.”

“You deserve a lot better. I won’t take up too much of your time. I know you must be full of a lot of overwhelming thoughts, but please don’t shut me out of your life.”

“I’m not shutting you out.”

“I’m one of the closest people to you and I never would have known you’re skipping town if I hadn’t called you.”

You shut your eyes and swallowed the lump in your throat. You were good at this. You were good at shutting people out because it was easier that way. It was easier to slam the closet doors shut instead of being open and addressing the species of demons that sat collecting dust on the shelves. Every so often, they wormed their way out and began to crawl around.

Self-hatred, insecurities, comparison, and the words thrown like a bucket of ice water from your parents. You were a wreck and you were about to crash. This impulsive trip was just more proof of that.

“What if one day you realize who I really am?” You whispered into the phone. Your head shifted and leaned up against the open window panel. You glanced down to find a staff member in a neon yellow vest heading towards the front of the plane. “What if you realize I’m a monster like my parents have?”

“You’re far from a monster. A monster wouldn’t offer to pay for my coffee. They wouldn’t let me ramble about my worst days. A monster wouldn’t hold me after I cried buckets of tears over a reality TV show. There’s nothing wrong with who you are and I love who you are.”

A faint voice entered his ear as a lady came over the intercom. You glanced up to see a flight attendant begin to announce the instructions for the flight. “I’ve gotta go.”

“You’ll come back after this, right? You won’t just leave me here? You won’t disappear into the abyss forever?”

“For you, I won’t disappear. I’ll come back and let you cry all over that stupid romance show again. I’ll hold your hand while we go for walks. I’ll let you show me your favorite anime.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“I promise.”

_ _ _

Felix:

The world was a little blurry as you stepped upright to the white door. You reached out and knocked a few times. Exhaustion hung heavy from your limbs and caused your head to droop to your chin. Like a lost puppy dog, you had nowhere else to go.

There was a click of the lock and the door was pulled open. When you glance up, your single working eye found Felix. Relief floated through you and you felt like you could finally breathe.

“What the hell happened to your eye?”

You had been nursing the black eye since the early hours of the morning. A fight with your step-parent had gone out of control. You snapped at something they said and then they swung. You didn’t have time to step back as their pointed knuckles caught your eye socket.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Can I just come in? I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

Felix opened the door wider and let you come inside at your own pace. Worry was sewn into his furrowed brows. He scanned your face, trying to figure out how he could help you. A purple bag sat beneath your other eye, you looked rough.

His hands approached your shoulders and he gently led you over to the couch before pushing you down onto the cushions. “Was it the step-parent?”

“Unfortunately.”

“They’re such an asshole. I’m going to go get some ice for you. Just stay there and don’t think about leaving the couch. I don’t want you to get hurt anymore.”

When he came back with a small ice pack he frowned at you. Your head laid against the side of the couch and you seemed as if you wanted to cry. No tears came out of the swollen eye. Beaten purples, puffy brown, and a tinge of cold blue encapsulated your eye. Your eyelid was so swollen that it had been pressed shut. You were only seeing the world around you with one eye.

As carefully as he could, he eased himself down beside you, gently touched your shoulder, and tugged you towards him. You shifted and let yourself be pulled onto his lap. He slowly pressed the ice against your eye and your other eye instinctively shut as you winced at first.

“You’re sure you don’t want to discuss it?”

“It was a really bad fight.”

“I can see that.”

“Do you think I’m insufferable?”

“Never. No matter what was said, you’re not who they claim you are. You’re one of the best people out there and I adore you with every fiber of my being. Just sit here and let me take care of you. Let me hold you for a while, okay? Let my body heat remind you that you’re not alone.”

“I think I’m going to cry.”

“Cry all you want. I’ll be right here if you want to get it off your chest. Go ahead and let it out, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

_ _ _

Seungmin:

“You are the most worthless and inconsiderate person I’ve ever met! You are nothing, but a brat! A stupid and unloving brat! A selfish cunt! I wish I would have never given birth to you! If I could take it back, I would. Nine months utterly wasted. I wish you would have died instead of popping out of the womb!”

In the hallway, Seungmin froze at the screaming. The door to your shared bedroom was closed and faint sniffles could be heard. What the hell was going on? He stepped forward to check on you.”

“Stop ignoring me, you bitch. I know you’re receiving all my phone calls. You can ignore me all you want, but you’re rotten on the inside. I hope you listen to these voicemails and I hope you kill yourself. Do yourself a favor to this entire family and-”

He rushed forward to the door and shoved it open. When he spotted you, you were laying on the perfectly neat bed. Your phone was on your chest face down. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you listened to the voicemails. You were so preoccupied that you didn’t even realize Seungmin had entered the room.

“Who is that?” He suddenly called out to you.

Your head snapped over and you clicked your phone off. “Nobody,” you muttered and wiped at the tears on your cheeks.

“Don’t lie to me, who is that?”

“A pissed off parent.”

“Why the hell are they talking to you like that?”

“They hate me.”

“And I hate them.” His hand stretched out toward your phone. You didn’t fight it as he pulled it from your grip. He entered your passcode and went directly to your voicemail box. “Oh my god, how many of these have they sent?”

“Twelve.”

“And you’ve listened to them all?”

“Repeatedly. Good to know that my brain isn’t the only one that hates me, huh?” You weakly smiled and a defeated laugh fell from your chest. Your arms remained limp above your head.

You had submerged your brain in the voicemails. For the past half-hour you had been relistening to them over and over and over again. Forcing yourself to continuously endure the hatred shooting from their mouth.

One-by-one, he deleted every single voicemail. When he was finished, he went into your call log and blocked the number. “You’re not listening to that bullshit anymore.”

“Too late for that.”

He shoved your phone on the side table, crawled into the bed beside you, and curled up next to you. “I’m not going to let you believe that bullshit.”

“I thought you hated me too.”

“Teasing is different from verbally harassing someone so much that they start to get depressed.” He wiggled closer, shoved his arms around you, and pulled you tight against him. “I think I should do this more often.”

“You don’t like cuddles.”

“Yeah, I do. I just can’t tell you that because you’ll take advantage of it. You just lay there and look pretty and let me do the cuddling and the talking. Where should I start? Your nose? Your eyes? Oh, how about your hair!”

“They’re too big, the color of shit, and greasy.”

“Shut up and let me compliment you. You don’t see yourself like I see you. If you interrupt me, I’m gonna tickle you.”

“Do not!”

His fingers shot out against the sides of your ribs. You squirmed, but couldn’t fight the smile that crept upon your face. “Stop! Stop!” His fingers lightly danced along your skin as your laughter bubbled up and brightened up the room.

It was the best sound he ever heard in his life.

_ _ _

Jeongin:

It had happened so fast, it nearly gave him whiplash. One moment the two of you were sprawled out on the couch and watching a new show. You were both laughing and making silly commentary. The lightheartedness was something he cherished.

He got up for a few minutes to use the bathroom. The tacos from lunch had left his bowels in turmoil. You insisted that he needed to try refried beans in his taco. He only had two, but it was enough that he had been running to the bathroom off and on for the past few hours. He swore he’d never do it again.

He was expecting to come back to you teasing him. Sure, it’d leave him mortified, but he’d throw it back in your face. He’d blame you since you recommended that he’d consume them. The two of you would continue teasing each other until you broke into a fit of giggles.

What he hadn’t expected was the tears in your eyes as you sniffled on the couch. Your phone was pressed against your ear and your bottom lip was quivering. The sight was so alarming that he rushed towards you, worried that some kind of emergency had happened.

“Baby?” He called out softly.

You didn’t respond, but that’s when he heard the yelling pressed against your ear. Your mother’s voice was so loud that he could hear it when he got closer. He pulled the phone away, but it was far too late to take back the horror that you had heard.

He quickly ended the call and dropped your phone on the couch cushion before he dropped down beside you. His eyes scanned your face as he tried to find some sort of understanding, but nothing was making sense.

What happened? What was going on? Why had your mother yelled at you like that?

You struggled to keep it together and soon you burst. A whimper fell from your throat, his hand found your thigh, and that’s when you broke down sobbing. Through tears you sputtered about the rocky relationship with your mom.

You talked about how awful it was, how much it hurt you, and how much you hated it. The name calling, how she blamed you for every wrongdoing in her life, she blamed everything on you. You were her kid, but had never been treated like it. If anything you were more of a hindrance to her life somehow.

You collapsed in his arms and he pulled you against him tightly. “Please don’t cry, you know how much I hate it when you cry. I can’t handle it, baby. You’re going to make me cry.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

He squeezed his arms around you tighter and gently rubbed your back more and more. He uttered affirmations and reassured you that your mother was in the wrong. No mother should ever treat her kid, no matter how old, the way she had treated you.

By the time he finished, your head was propped on his shoulder. Soft hiccups jolted your body every few moments. His hand continued to rub reassurance into your back. The other hand was along the back of your head.

Maybe if he pressed you into him long enough, you’d be able to understand just how much he loved you.

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